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In the Reel World

so this director friend introduces me to the lady producer who’s looking for a low-budget comedy to shoot before cannes but there isn’t the time to write her a new script so i pitch and later submit a few dust-collectors which i’d long ago written and had almost given up hope of ever getting produced when to my delight she finds one she likes and hands me a check and notes for the rewrite and this is cool because i’m working again and these notes are actually helping me make this a better script and she loves the rewrite and tells me her last movie “plays every ninety days on cable” and hands me a copy of the uncut version for the overseas market and later at home i pop it into my dvd player and with my wife we watch the first ten minutes of the movie in which all the girls are wearing bikinis because their clothes were stolen and so they have to take jobs as bikini models and move into this mansion where one of the girls takes the long-g-gest shower directly in front of the camera that my wife gets up and leaves the room complaining about the x-ploitation of female body parts and how she can’t believe “a woman made this trash!” and i’m already imagining the lady producer turning my love scenes into extend-d-ded sex scenes which i sure as hell won’t be able to let my kids watch while lamenting i’ve already spent her money on the mortgage and reliving how the hell i got involved in this predicament in the first place and so i can’t fall asleep but instead stare up at the darkened ceiling conjuring ways to unmake this movie which i can’t even believe i’m considering considering i’ve no other movie deals on my desk and how i’m still legally bound to the lady producer when almost in a dream my mind suddenly swims in schools of nom de plumes . . .


Previously published in: Fingerprints, Issue IX, Pasadena, CA, ’00.